


Fwd: A love story

by upbeat



Series: Patrick Brewer, COO (Or, "What Happened, Patrick?") [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upbeat/pseuds/upbeat
Summary: On the eve of their store's opening, Patrick’s attempt to email a vendor contract goes slightly awry.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Patrick Brewer, COO (Or, "What Happened, Patrick?") [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794337
Comments: 37
Kudos: 158





	Fwd: A love story

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing the embarrassed Patrick Brewer saga.

The squeaking started a few days ago, or at least that’s when they both noticed it. Patrick had taken a seat on the stool they had set up behind the register when it creaked faintly under his weight. A half-turn to the left as he got adjusted garnered another longer, much louder squeak. 

Today, David is sitting on the stool, emailing vendor after vendor and squeaking up a veritable storm. Lost in his thoughts of thank-yous to their suppliers for their contribution and support on the eve of their store’s opening, he barely notices the high-pitched noises piercing through the room as he swivels idly back and forth.

“Alright, David,” Patrick speaks up. “I think it’s time we put some WD-40 on that thing.”

He and Stevie are at the front of the store fixing up the center display of hand soaps and lotions. (Patrick is fixing; Stevie is “supervising.”) With the store opening tomorrow, everything needed to be in tip-top shape and, according to David earlier that morning, it most certainly wasn’t. 

“You know when I first met him, he thought WD-40 was a tax form,” Stevie says.

“Okay, _why_ are you here again?” David looks up from his laptop at Stevie. 

“You said you and Patrick needed help fixing up the displays,” she replies innocently.

“So then why aren’t you helping fixing up the displays?”

At that, Stevie picks up a single bar of soap and places it down on the table emphatically. 

“Well can you at least go and get the WD-40 then?” David waves her off. 

“Okay, and where is that?”

“We don’t have any,” Patrick chimes in. “David thought it’d be very ‘off-brand’ to have something like that in the store.”

“Don’t you have some at the motel or something? Or, like, at your apartment? I assume you have things there that need to be frequently lubricated,” David says, getting back to his laptop, his cup of lukewarm caramel macchiato poised at his lips.

"I don't even know what you're trying to imply with that," Stevie slings her bag over her shoulder to leave. 

But before she can, and just as David is about to take another sip of his coffee, his laptop dings with a new email notification.

"Um, Patrick?" he calls out. "Did you… did you email Natalie the vendor contract?"

"I did. I sent it to her this morning," he walks over to where David is sitting and motions to his own laptop which is laying on the counter next to him. "Why?"

"Well, she just forwarded it back to me," he angles the screen toward Patrick and points to the email titled **"Fwd: Rose Apothecary Vendor Contract."**

"She says the contract wasn't attached… but instead there was a… 'multimedia file?'"

Stevie's ears perk up like a cat’s at the sound of a can opening. She rushes back over toward the register.

“A ‘multimedia file?’ What does _that_ mean?” Grinning, her voice drops. “… Like a… sex video? A porno?”

“What? Jesus, Stevie. No,” Patrick shakes his head. 

“Patrick, did you send a _porn video_ to our artisanal chocolate supplier?!”

“ _No_ , I didn't send a porn video to our artisanal chocolate supplier, David!”

“Are you sure, though? What does the attachment say?” Stevie scooches past Patrick and leans over to look at the computer screen. “Ooh, Strapping Sailor Likes -- "

“It does _not_ say that, Stevie,” Patrick silences her sternly. He rubs his hands down the sides of his jeans anxiously awaiting David’s response.

David looks closer at the email attachment. “It’s just a series of numbers,” he says, underwhelmed. “It looks like it's an mp4 file.”

Patrick grows quiet all of a sudden and looks down at the counter like he’s trying to do long-division in his head. His eyes widen a second later but it’s a second too late. David’s already double-clicking the file open.

“Okay, yeah, we don’t have to -- “

 _"HI DAVID, IT'S PATRICK.”_ David’s unmistakable voice comes booming through the laptop speakers about 10 decibels too loud. David winces instantly and moves to lower the volume at the same time that Patrick lunges to try and shut the laptop. Their hands clash, stalling any attempts to quiet the audio now blasting freely through the store. 

“ _... CALLING TO RUN MY BUSINESS PLAN, UH, BY YOU IN A LITTLE MORE DETAIL.”_

David’s fingers are over the touchpad and Patrick can’t simply shut the laptop on his hand now so he makes a move toward the keyboard in an attempt to mute the sound.

“No, those keys don’t work… you have to click the little… “ David carefully moves his finger over the mousepad, but with Patrick also impatiently trying to get his own hands on the computer, David’s hand is jostled in the process and he ends up clicking the wrong button. Instead of muting it, the volume suddenly becomes much, _much_ louder. 

_ “... WILL BE HAPPY TO WALK YOU THROUGH IT. OKAY, CIAO.” … “HI PATRICK… YEAH, I THINK I... I THINK I CALLED YOU DAVID, WHICH, THAT’S NOT - THAT’S NOT YOUR NAME.” _

“David, just stop it -- just _press stop… "_ Patrick crowds into his space more, his right arm now directly on top of David’s and he tries desperately and clumsily to commandeer the laptop.

“I _can’t_ \-- Patrick, your hand is in the way... ” 

_ “... LEFT YOU. UM, JUST THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE A GOOD IDEA TO GIVE YOU SOME BACKGROUND INFORMATION ABOUT THE - THE STORE. IT’S BASICALLY… ” _

“Patrick, _stop_! Just let me…” 

_ “... SUPPORT LOCAL ARTISTS UNDER THE BRAND OF THE STORE, WHICH - WHICH WOULD ALSO BE -- ” _

Finally David manages to elbow his way past Patrick’s panicked, graceless limbs enough to press “stop” on the media player. 

The audio cuts out in an instant, and the space around them is suddenly unsettlingly quiet. In the aftermath of this major Herculean feat, the only sound in the store is the slow, listless squeak of David’s stool coming to a halt.

Stevie’s face is a mixture of both confusion and wild, unfettered amusement. 

"What… was _that?_ " She looks at David. And then at Patrick. And then back at David. 

Then David looks at Patrick. 

"Um, so what happened… ?" he asks at the very same time that Patrick starts to say, "Oh, yeah, so you know what must have happened?” 

“See, I sent her the email from my _phone_ ,” Patrick continues. “And I guess your voicemails must have also gotten attached somehow? Yeah, that’s so weird… iPhones... " he mumbles. He’s unable to bring himself to look at either of them. 

“I’m not the most technologically-savvy person, but that seems _highly_ unlikely,” Stevie intones.

"Mm, yeah, how would something like that even happen?” David agrees. “Plus, there was only _one_ attachment. And I had left _multiple_ voicemails. Something’s just not… making… sense... ?" The corners of David’s mouth are tugging up into an incredulous grin. 

“Oh! Actually, no -- you know what? _Now_ I remember,” Patrick exclaims with a short, nervous laugh, like he didn’t just send the email a mere few hours ago. “I _did_ send it from my computer actually,” he points ahead at no one in particular then looks up at the ceiling like he’s trying to remember the sequence of events. “Yeah, uh, so what happened was… you had left me those voicemails,” he swallows. His palms are starting to sweat just a little.

“Uh, and, you know… since there were like, _a hundred,”_ he forces out a laugh and pauses, waiting, hoping, for David to object or Stevie to balk. But they just continue to stare back at him, not a peep. Not even a squeak.

“So yeah, I just figured it’d be easier, you know, for me, if I could… combine them all together. You know, listen to them all at once. So I could, uh, fill out your application.”

Patrick’s still not looking directly at David but from his peripherals he can see that he’s nodding along steadily. He can’t tell if it’s out of genuine interest or wary amusement and his palms start to sweat more. He shoves them into his pockets. 

“So I just, uh, I transferred the voicemails to my computer so I could… do that. Combine them. You know, they have programs where you can combine them. Save them as one combined file. Yeah, it was just easier -- just easier for me to combine them. Since you left me like, _a hundred_ \--"

“Patrick!” Stevie interrupts loudly. 

David places a sure hand on Patrick’s back, hoping to find the off switch. 

Stevie continues, “Honestly, I’m no longer interested in this story and if you say ‘combine them’ one more time, I will come back and WD-40 everything in this store.” She pulls her bag back onto her shoulder and turns to leave. 

Patrick lets out a long breath. He finally manages to look at David and he thinks there might be something gentle in his eyes. 

“So," David begins calmly once Stevie closes the door. "Why don’t you just email Natalie again? Just… you know… send her the contract, like you had intended to, and we can just forget about all of... this.” He pushes Patrick’s laptop out in front of him and opens the cover.

Encouraged by the soft tone of David’s voice, one that he had not yet heard before, and his warm hand still on his back, Patrick pulls his hands out from his pockets and places them onto the keyboard. “Yeah, I’m just going to... I’ll email her the contract now,” he clears his throat, trying to reset.

Patrick clicks a few times on the mousepad and begins typing. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, David moves his hand from Patrick's back to the edge of the stool and pushes off with his legs, swiveling back and forth.

Patrick stops typing. "Okay, do you not hear that, David?" He winces at the noise.

David smiles, still spinning, still squeaking. Patrick thinks he must be messing with him.

"I don't know, I think I might be a little hard of hearing from earlier!" David shouts.

Patrick rolls his eyes and turns back to his computer. David leans over on the stool then to look over Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Remember the file is, um, ‘RAvendorcontract.pdf,'” he says ever so slowly. He points to the screen. "Yeah, that one right there.”

Patrick can't help but laugh a little. 

“Yep, got it, David, thank you,” he cautions. He's still a little flustered from earlier, but David is smirking at him in that comfortable way Patrick loves and he's spinning around on the stool with a boyish quality that he has never seen before, and Patrick finds himself quickly relaxing into the quiet ease of it all.


End file.
